Losing A Forbidden Flower — _best_

A version of oneself that can only be expressed in secret.

In the lexicon of human emotion, grief is typically reserved for the public sphere. We mourn parents, partners, children, and friends. Society offers rituals for these losses: funerals, sympathy cards, and paid leave. But what happens when the thing you lost was never yours to claim in the first place?

Psychologists call this . It is the sorrow you feel when your loss isn't recognized or validated by others. Losing A Forbidden Flower

You cannot mourn what you never had. But you can mourn the person you became the moment you reached for it anyway.

Because these relationships are often secret, the isolation of the breakup can be the hardest part. A version of oneself that can only be expressed in secret

Your brain has canonized this person. You must consciously de-canonize them. Take a piece of paper. Write down three annoying things about them. Did they chew loudly? Were they shallow? Were they unavailable? Force yourself to see the thorns on the stem. The flower was not perfect; you were just starving.

When such a flower is lost, you are not grieving a breakup. You are grieving a ghost of a future that was never legally yours to begin with. Society offers rituals for these losses: funerals, sympathy

Human nature is magnetically drawn to the "off-limits." The forbidden flower is intoxicating because it exists outside the mundane. It represents a rebellion against the status quo, promising a fragrance more intense than anything found in the "allowed" garden. We convince ourselves that the risk of plucking it is a fair price for the thrill of its possession. The Moment of Loss